Surrender
by Ista
Summary: Peter is injured after an attack from the Sovereign. The other Guardians help him get better. Good ole fashioned Quill h/c! Takes place after second film.
1. Listen to the Wind Blow

**Surrender**

 **Summary:** Peter is injured after an attack from the Sovereign. The other Guardians help him get better. Good ole fashioned Quill h/c! Takes place after second film.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Guardians of the Galaxy_ …darn.

 **Warning:** Some gore, language.

 **Chapter 1: Listen to the Wind Blow**

Rocket is a smooth little thief. He preens the fur under his chin and examines the data pad he just snatched from one of the Sovereign's underground vaults. The storage units are vast, cold, dimly lit, and ridiculously easy to break into.

"So how does it feel to be stealing from the Sovereign again?" Peter's voice pipes through his helmet's communications link.

Rocket's grin looks like a growl in the darkness. "Like stealing candy from a gold-plated asshole baby."

There's a pause, then: "All right. I can see that."

Rocket turns the small rectangular data pad over in his paws, resisting the urge to turn it on or possibly take it apart that very moment. Nova Corps was paying the Guardians good money to commit espionage in the name of the safety of the galaxy. Apparently, Nova Corps had suspicions about the Sovereign's sudden involvement in other systems. Something about possible weapons development and supremacy over other planets blah blah blah.

Rocket had suspicions about the shiny humanoids from day one.

He puts the data pad in a small backpack and turns his snout upwards, listening for any sign of detection. Nothing-just silence punctuated by the _drip drip drip_ of leaky pipes in the vicinity. For a people as anal as the Sovereign, they sure don't believe in basic maintenance.

"How's it lookin' on the surface?" he asks Quill.

There is a patch of static, and then Peter answers: "Entrance looks clear. Groot's waving from the other side. Nothing to report."

"Fan-tas-tic." Rocket punctuates the syllables playfully. "We got what we came for. I'm headed back to meet Groot."

"Copy," says Quill. "Hey—you mind if I pipe some music into the comm link?"

"Knock yourself out," says Rocket and begins to flitter down the long aisles of the vault towards the exit. Soon, he can hear guitars and drums in his earpiece. It's upbeat Terran music—a song he hasn't heard before.

 _We sit in the car outside your house_

 _I can feel the heat comin' round_

Rocket shimmies through a small ventilation shaft and drops into a new compartment.

 _I go to put my arm around you_

 _And you give me a look like I'm way outta bounds_

"I like this," the raccoon says softly as he takes out a set of tools and fastidiously assembles them. "Who sings it?"

 _Well, you let out one of your bored sighs_

 _Well lately when I look into your eyes_

"Bruce Springsteen," Peter says, and Rocket can hear the smile in his voice even though he can't see him. "Isn't it great?"

Rocket sticks his tongue out unconsciously from the side of his mouth as he sparks a mini-blowtorch, tracing its blue flames along the thick metal door in front of him. He cuts out a perfect rectangle, just big enough for him to fit through.

 _I'm goin' down down down down_

 _I'm going down down down down_

"Yeah," says Rocket. He flicks the torch off and presses on the piece of the door he just carved into. It falls away from him with a _thunk_! and he saunters through it. "Catchy."

In a matter of seconds, Rocket is at the exit. He can see Groot's wide yellow eyes peering at him through the small window on the door.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Gimme a second, you medium-sized idiot," Rocket mutters to himself and presses the six-digit code onto the keypad alongside the door by standing on a metal rail next to the exit. The song ends as the massive opening clicks open and welcomes a warm breeze that blows across the raccoon's fur.

Rocket strolls through the exit, meeting his teammate with a wink and admiring the desolate terrain of this particular section of Sovereign. It is a high desert, mostly sand and rock with clumps of ground vegetation. Rocket brings one paw up to shield his eyes against the purplish glare of the setting sun, noting Star-Lord's figure in the distance, still guarding the entrance of the underground vault. Quill gives Rocket a wave.

"I am Groot," says the Flora colossus, its voice cracking slightly.

"Couldn't say it better myself," agrees Rocket. "Let's get the hell outta here."

And then the siren begins. Piercing and high-pitched, it makes the raccoon cover his ears as they bristle. Next, the wail is accompanied by red flashing lights and a computerized voice that repeats over and over: "Security breach detected. Security breach detected. Security breach—"

"Oh no," Rocket groans, a shiver of dread curling up his spine.

"Rocket!" Peter yells in his headset. "What's going on?!"

The raccoon throws his paws up in the air, hoping the human can see the gesture although he is about 200 feet away.

"We've been detected," says Rocket, frustration flowing out of his voice. "But I don't see how…" Without asking, Groot immediately lifts the furry bandit in the air so he can be at eye-level with the security keypad and examine it.

"What does that mean?" Quill's tone is more high-pitched than usual, suggesting panic.

"Well, if I can't turn the warning off within the next minute, Sovereign security will be alerted, and we're gonna have company."

The sirens screech in Rocket's ears, crimson lights blaring. He faces the keypad and begins to try out various code combinations, concentrating.

"You can do this, Rocket," Peter voice comes through his headset.

"And if I can't?" the raccoon says with a bitter laugh, his paws flying across the security pad.

"I am Groot."

"Did _you_ touch something?" Rocket asks the plant-like humanoid with his back turned to him.

"I am Groot!" the teenager denies.

"Yeah, yeah," huffs Rocket. He punches in another code and then emits a sharp _yip_ as a metal panel slides over the number keys, nearly cutting off the tip of his paw.

The red lights intensify, and the siren becomes louder.

"Self-destruct sequence initiated," the computer-voice says, repeating the phrase over and over.

"Oh sh—"

" _Rocket!"_

The raccoon exchanges a quick glance with Groot and gazes at Star-Lord's small frame in the distance as the human begins to run towards them, to save them. But he's never going to make it in time.

"ROCKET, GET OUT OF THERE!" Quill screams through his communicator.

Silently, Groot and Rocket begin racing in the opposite direction of the vault's exit. The raccoon can feel his heartbeats count the seconds down. How many do they have left? Twenty? Ten? And then he feels himself being lifted into the air as Groot scoops him up, plodding along at a faster pace, each giant footstep causing Rocket's bones to vibrate in his frame.

 _We aren't going to make it._

Five.

Rocket squints to look at Star-Lord, still close to the vault's entrance. He runs as if in slow motion.

Four.

Rocket looks back at the exit, still glaring at them angrily.

Three.

The thief thinks of his other friends back on Peter's ship. Drax. Gamora. Do they know what's going on?

Two.

The raccoon wraps one paw around Groot's strong and stringy arm, feeling the coolness of its body and seeing a look of complete concentration on its face. When Groot looks down at Rocket, the raccoon sees kindness in his eyes.

One.

Rocket braces himself for the explosion, but it doesn't happen. Groot hesitates and stops. There is a delay of a few seconds, and then a massive _boom_ shakes the earth beneath them, causing his ears to ring with the sound. Groot puts up a branch of an arm to protect his friend in case of flying debris. But the explosion didn't occur behind them.

Rocket jumps from Groot's grasp. His eyes reflect the bloom of orange erupting from the vault's entrance in the west.

"Peter…"

At that moment, Rocket can just barely make out the small figure lifted up by the explosion and blown backwards, landing on the ground several feet away and enveloped by the plume of smoke that rolls across the surface in the explosion's wake.

Rocket is screaming the Terran's name and racing towards the blast before Groot can stop him.

TBC

 **A/N:** This is my first "Guardians" fic! It was so much fun to write these characters after falling in love with the latest movie. This story will probably have at least three chapters, maybe more. Please leave a review if you have time, and thanks for reading!

P.S. I made a little "Awesome Mix Vol 3" of my own for fun and included "I'm Goin' Down" by Springsteen and "Down the Dolce Vita" by Peter Gabriel (to be played as soon as the vault's warning system goes off) as the soundtrack for this chapter.


	2. And the Night is So Long

**Surrender**

 **Chapter 2: And the Night is So Long**

Star-Lord thinks: _Was anyone expecting this? 'Cause_ I _definitely wasn't._

His world tilts, fractures, and burns up. The force of the explosion stemming from the entrance knocks him off his feet and the _BOOM_ is so loud that it resonates in his chest and he hears a distinctive _pop_ in his ears.

Peter Quill thinks: _I'm gonna die._

And then he slams hard into the ground on his right side, skidding a few feet and throwing up dust in his wake. The heat from the detonation licks his face and singes his light hair. Peter's chest and sides ache, lungs struggling to take in oxygen from the sudden impact. Debris from the vault sprinkles on top of him along with the ash and smoke and he can't breathe he can't breathe he can't—

Acrid smoke billows around him and reaches down his throat, scraping his lungs raw, and Quill begins to cough. He hacks and hacks, spitting grit from his mouth, but at least his lungs are working again.

Dazed, Peter rolls over. He runs his hands over the front of his rust-colored leather jacket and checks for damage to his torso. Although he's bound to have a hell of a bruise on the side where he landed, nothing seems broken. Then he remembers the Zune he put in his pocket right before he went flying.

 _OhpleaseGodnooooletitbeokay—_

His fingers fumble over the smooth plastic of the case, not a crack in it. Star-Lord heaves a sigh of relief.

 _Thank you._

His vision blurs then focuses on the earpiece a few feet from him that got lost in the concussive blast. Still not trusting his body to be able to move around just yet, Peter's hands stretch out, snatching the small device and attaching it above his right ear. But when he presses the button to deploy the helmet, nothing happens.

 _Broke._

"Dammit!" he says, but his words are drowned out by the roar of the explosion and the persistent ringing in his ears. Through the smoke, he can barely make out the flames from the Sovereign's vault, although its heat ripples across the desert and causes sweat to trickle down his back.

 _Adios, oxygen and contacting Rocket._

 _Rocket!_

Star-Lord had forgotten about the pain-in-the-ass raccoon and his topiary sidekick. He assumes they were able to get farther away from the explosion than he did, but he still needs to make sure they're okay. Because he's their leader and he was trying to save them when a _building_ exploded on him, etc. Quill pushes himself into a sitting position with a grunt. He checks himself. _So far, so good._ And then he gets to his feet.

Instantly, his vision spins, and Peter falls to his knees, but even that position is too much for his head to take, and he falls forward.

For a moment, darkness beckons him to tap out, like a silver-edged blanket unfurling across his eyes. Uncertain whether he can move, Peter gingerly pushes himself into a sitting position. Soon, the darkness turns into nausea as the desert terrain whirls around him, an amusement park excursion he never paid for. Quill clutches his stomach and goes along for the ride.

Something the size of a toaster oven (and conveniently engulfed in flames) lands next to him. Peter scrabbles backward, his sight splitting in two. _Just run away_ , he thinks. So he rises again only to immediately fall down, knees sinking into sand. Groaning, Quill gets farther away from the flaming debris on his hands and knees. Still blinded by the thick black smoke, he's not sure whether he's headed _toward_ the vault explosion or _away_ from it.

Once he seems far enough from the dangerous debris, Peter settles back into a seated position, moaning and swallowing thickly. The phrase "criss-cross apple sauce" flits through his mind, awaking a barrage of memories that take Peter back to Kindergarten and his early childhood on Earth. The sudden onslaught of recollections (the gleam of his mother's hair in sunlight, the taste of peanut butter and raisins on celery) coupled with the intensifying throb in his ears and head cause his eyes to tear.

 _Make it stop_ , Peter pleads with no one in particular. He slowly takes deep breaths and puts his head in his palms, closing his eyes and willing the dizziness to go away.

Then something that feels an awful lot like a child's hand _touches_ him.

Peter flinches and cries out despite the roar and ringing of the explosion in his ears, falling backwards. His world slants dramatically, but then focuses on a familiar furry figure.

"Rocket! Man—don't freaking _scare_ me like that!"

Rocket has his paws on his little raccoon hips, giving Quill a look that shows just how pissed _off_ he is, but that he would be even _more_ pissed off if Star-Lord had bit the dust. What a pal.

Groot is there too, bending over so that his head is within Peter's field of vision, his often-apathetic expression as an adolescent now projecting happiness.

"Guys—I think I might've hit my head in the blast. My… my eyesight's a little wonky. Mind givin' me a hand up?"

Rocket gets closer to Peter's face, his jaw moving, teeth flashing as if growling at the human.

"Hey—don't get mad at me!" Peter says defensively. " _I_ didn't touch any red death-buttons." He tosses an amiable wink at Groot with this last comment and instantly regrets the movement because it makes his eyeballs feel like dice rolling over and over and over on a card table. When Star-Lord is finally able to focus on Groot, the plant-like humanoid is staring at him with his long arms folded in typical unimpressed-teen style.

Then Rocket reaches out two paws and puts them on each side of Peter's head. Quill doesn't really mind the touch, although Rocket's getting border-line invasive of his personal space. And Quill knows for a _fact_ that he's talked about personal space with all of his crew mates before. Especially Drax. Rocket's jaw continues working up and down—he _must_ be saying something. So why can't Quill hear him?

"Rocket—you gotta speak up, man. The explosion's really loud."

A searing piece of debris lights up the sky, and Peter follows it with his eyes. Unfortunately, his head also follows his eyes, and like a baby with a noggin that's too big, he falls backward with the motion. His hands flutter like a frantic pigeon to try and catch himself, but they don't have to because Peter feels sturdy arms against his back, propping him up.

"Thanks, Groot," Peter says, looking upside down at the teenager with a bleary smile. The plant-like humanoid gently releases Star-Lord and supports the human's back with his strong legs so he can remain sitting up.

The raccoon's eyes widen with what looks like worry, which puzzles Peter. Then Rocket's paws move to Quill's hands and brings them up. That's when Quill sees they are covered with blood.

"Are you hurt?" Quill says, no-nonsense now, keeping his head still long enough to scan Rocket's body, but all he finds is silver fur and a green backpack. Not even a scrape.

 _Huh._

Then Rocket's paw goes up to the human's right ear—his throbbing, pounding ear—and brings away a claw streaked with red, showing it to Peter. Quill's hands instantly cover his ears and he brings them back to reveal fresh streaks of crimson.

"What happened…?"

Rocket's paw on his shoulder alerts Peter to look at him. The raccoon is now holding what looks like a silver whistle. He blows it right in front of the Terran's face.

Peter doesn't hear a thing except for the continued ringing, which is starting to get pretty annoying.

"Wait…Is this some kinda practical joke?" he asks.

Rocket shakes his furry head, his own pointy ears twitching.

"Why can't I hear…?"

Peter's hand goes to his right ear absent-mindedly, feeling the slick blood that drips onto his shoulders and the sand beneath them.

"My ears…"

Only then does Quill realize that he hasn't been able to hear the words he has been speaking to Rocket and Groot this entire time. Yes, he can feel the vibrations in his chest when he speaks, but he can't actually _hear_ the sound.

He tries a test and covers his hands over his ears once more. "Hello… H-hello?"

Peter freezes. He can't hear anything.

"Rocket…" Peter looks at his friend helplessly. "I can't hear myself. I can't hear myself. Rocket…."

Star-Lord thinks now might be a good time to start panicking. Fortunately, a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye momentarily distracts him.

Directly in front of Peter, Rocket swallows, eyes downcast. Behind the raccoon, the smoke is clearing. The thief is so focused on Quill that he doesn't even see the Golden Drone directly behind him, taking aim and ready to fire at the threesome on the ground below.

TBC

 **A/N:** I should state that I'm not a doctor and have never had any eardrum damage, so I hope I accurately portray Peter's injury. Thanks so much for all the reviews and favorites and follows! Plenty more Peter whump and some comfort in the next chapter!

P.S. And, yeah, I turned "topiary" into an adjective. You're welcome. ^_^


	3. Everybody Smiles at You

**Surrender**

 **Chapter 3: Everybody Smiles at You**

"Rocket…I can't hear myself. I can't hear myself. Rocket…"

Rocket is freaking out.

Rocket is freaking out because _Quill_ is freaking out and blood is pouring out of the man's _ears,_ and aside from that being incredibly gross, it is also a sign that they are damaged, perhaps beyond repair. The raccoon is no expert on Terran anatomy, but he knows that blood pouring out of _any_ orifice is _not_ a good sign.

Quill's eyes have gone all wide and panicky, staring blankly at the smoke behind the raccoon, and Rocket puts his paws on the human's shoulder to steady him because it's obvious he hasn't heard _anything_ the thief has just said to him in the past couple minutes.

"Groot—whadda we do?" Rocket says. He risks taking his eyes off the injured humie for a second as he looks up at the gangly brown and green creature.

The teenager's voice cracks and then goes deeper, all of the leafy being's attention focused on Peter. "I am Groot."

"Okay. Okay—yeah. Get him back to the ship. Good thinkin'." Rocket wills his breathing to slow down. He's about to contact the others when Peter pushes him to the ground. The raccoon's snout smashes painfully into the sandy earth, and he can feel his fur bristle with anger.

"Quill—what the _hell_?!"

And that's when Peter leans forward and pulls out his two beloved Kree sub-machine guns and aims for the patch of sky that Rocket had been blocking seconds before.

The smoke clears, and Rocket sees the golden Sovereign ship like a beacon hovering over them, ready to attack.

Groot is kneeling beside Rocket, steadying the furry creature as he gets on his hind legs.

"You got my weapon?!" he cries to Groot.

Groot doesn't have time to reply before Peter launches himself into a sudden standing position.

"Peter—don't be an idiot!" Rocket cries and immediately curses himself for trying to get the man's attention verbally when Quill _clearly_ can't hear.

Star-Lord sways on his feet but remains standing and lets loose a volley of gunfire on the remote-controlled Drone. Bursts of blue lasers fly from his Kree weapons like a light show, and, despite his unsteadiness, every shot he takes aims true.

"Never…mind," Rocket whispers. Beside him, Groot stands slack-jawed, staring in awe as the Terran goes completely bad-ass on the small ship.

It explodes like fireworks in the sky. Star-Lord whoops.

"Take _that_ , evil C-3POs!" Quill hollers at the remains of the Golden Drone as it crashes down in a burning pile of rubble. Then he pivots around and promptly falls on his face.

"Quill!" Rocket dashes forward, but Groot gets to the fallen human first, taking giant steps compared to his hairy companion. He rolls the man over and props him into a sitting position, the captain's back against his enormous shins. The man's eyes are closed, and this frightens Rocket more than he cares to admit.

"I am Groot," says the tree-like humanoid mournfully.

"No, he ain't dead!" The raccoon hops into the man's lap and gently slaps his face. "Peter! C'mon, Peter! Wake up!"

Quill's green eyes gradually flutter open, and a dopey grin spreads across his face. "You gotta admit… That was awesome."

Rocket rolls his eyes. "All right, Star-Munch. You're the real thing. We get it. Now will you sit still for a minute while I contact—"

"I can't hear anything you're saying," Peter interrupts, his words growing louder and more slurred. He covers his ears with his blood-stained hands. "Wait! Wait…" He removes his hands then puts them back. "Nope. Still can't hear anything."

Rocket sighs loudly and drags a paw vertically down his snout. "I don't get paid enough."

He presses a button on his communications link and is _beyond_ relieved to hear Drax's voice on the other end. It's a first.

"Rocket. Is everything all right? The ship told us there was an explosion near the vault."

"Yeah," Rocket says and forces himself not to roll his eyes this time. "That was the vault. Exploding. Listen—Peter's hurt and we need to have the medical equipment ready by the time we get—"

"Are you contacting the ship?" Peter yells even though the human is right next to him, causing Rocket to jump half a foot in the air.

"You're sick, so I'm not going to smack the shit out of you," says Rocket with a sarcastic smile. Quill smiles back and gives the raccoon a thumbs up.

"Is that Quill?" comes Drax's serious baritone. "I think I hear Star-Lord. He sounds healthy."

"Well, there's nothin' wrong with his _lungs_ ," mutters Rocket and turns his back on the human. "But he needs help…"

"Hey Groot," Peter continues blabbing behind him.

"I am Groot," the larger being says kindly.

"At least I know what _you're_ saying," Peter slurs.

The sun is going down and Rocket is _done_ with this catastrophe of a day. "Ya still there, Drax?"

"We will have the medical bay prepared," says the warrior. "Gamora wants to know if you got the data."

"Yeah," Rocket says bitterly. _But at what cost?_ "I got it. Rocket out."

The communicator flicks off and Rocket turns back to the pair behind him. Peter is leaning against Groot with his eyes closed, another hand on his head, and humming a tune without a melody. Rocket's paws go to his hips again, his stance for getting things done and showing who's boss.

"All right, kiddies, we need to get out of here as fast as possible before any other Drones come back."

"I am Groot?" asks the Flora colossus.

"We can't risk the ship's hiding spot." _Just in case we have to use it in the future_ , Rocket thinks grimly. He sighs again when he sees Peter's pale face, dotted with red where he had brushed his bloody hands against it.

"You gotta napkin or anythin'?" Rocket says, baring his teeth squeamishly. "We should clean him up."

With his eyes still closed, Peter says loudly: "Groot—you got a napkin for my ears?"

Groot thinks about it and pulls from the depths of his own backpack a dainty white handkerchief with flowers on it and edged with lace.

Rocket steps over and snatches the item out of Groot's grasp. "That is a _handkerchief!_ You can't use a _handkerchief_ to wipe up blood! It'll _stain!_ Besides, that was made by a very nice old lady who gave us cookies…"

"I am Groot."

"Guys?" Peter says.

"That's beside the _point_! It's the _thought_ that counts. And she didn't know you weren't a _houseplant_ at the time. Remember, that was when you were still in your pot! It was an easy mistake."

"Guys?"

"I am Groot!"

" _Rocket!"_

" _What?!"_ Rocket yells.

Peter's eyes are wide with fright. He simply points towards the still-burning vault behind them and the setting sun. On the horizon are a dozen or more golden dots zooming closer towards them. Reinforcements.

 _Oh great._

TBC

 **A/N:** I kinda feel like the "handkerchief" moment was unnecessary. But I love it, so I left it in. Anyways, what is fanfiction if not completely self-indulgent? Haha. Thanks so much for all the reviews and favorites and follows! Special thanks to my **Guest** reviewers and **iDragonSpyro** (that would be a great moment between Peter and Gamora)! Please continue to let me know how I'm doing. Hope you enjoy!


	4. Pretty Blue Lights

**Surrender**

 **Chapter 4: Pretty Blue Lights**

The morass of Drones turns the crimson sunset golden on Sovereign.

Star-Lord's heart races.

He can feel the muscles in Groot's legs tense against his back.

Rocket's mouth is open wide, fur standing straight up like he's been electrocuted, holding a laced hankie that flutters in the breeze. It's kind of an amusing picture just by itself, minus the whole possibility of imminent death thing.

Peter decides to go ahead and 86 the silence for everyone else:

"So… Are we gonna run?"

The spell is broken. Rocket immediately tosses the white and fluttery piece of cloth to Groot who shoves it into his backpack. Then the raccoon is screaming something, and Peter doesn't need to be able to read vermin-lips to understand what he means.

Quill gets doggedly to his feet but instantly sways. The dizziness that had finally subsided when he rested against Groot comes back full-force, and he can't separate the sky from the ground. Before he has time to fall, however, Groot's tendrils shoot out and catch him, like picking a piece of fruit, and he falls back into the tree-like humanoid's strong arms.

"I can walk!" he protests.

Groot ignores him and runs. Correction: _plods quickly_. All Star-Lord can hear are the vibrations of Groot's steps, the blood pumping in his veins, and the _whoosh_ of oxygen in his lungs up against the alarm clock buzzing in his ears.

His ears… They feel stuffed—as if they are under water or full of cotton. He just wishes the feeling would go away, along with the throbbing in his skull and the feeling like he is going to hurl any minute. Bouncing up and down in Groot's grasp is definitely _not_ helping.

Up, down, up, down. Quill is jostled left and right, his vision blurring, but he can make out where Rocket is leading them. He can just see the black and silver of the beast's tail as he scampers on all fours up ahead. Now they are in the forest, under the protection of ancient trees, sacred to the people of Sovereign.

"The Drones won't be able to follow!" Peter shouts because he forgot he can't hear himself, and each time he opens his mouth, he speaks a little louder in case _this_ time he can hear.

He still can't.

Rocket spins around briefly to give Quill a thumbs-up, and the raccoon actually looks pleased with himself.

And that's when the Drones begin to fire on the forest. Bursts of flame, like liquid gold, spray out of their ships and catch branches on fire. In a matter of seconds, the trees behind them are collapsing in a charred mass of smoke and kindling.

"Where's your love for the _environment_?!" Star-Lord screams as Groot unceremoniously drops him. The human (thankfully) lands on his feet, reeling, as the peaceful setting dissolves into pandemonium, and their chance at escape diminishes by the second.

Meanwhile, Rocket has already climbed a nearby tree and begins to hop from branch to branch, flying through the air, and making himself more visible to the Drones.

"Why is _he_ playing the hero?" Quill shouts, unsure if Groot can hear him. "He doesn't get to do th—"

Something slices across Peter's right arm and left leg simultaneously, and he cries out, but Groot has grabbed him around the waist and throws him forward. Quill's hands flail, throat becoming hoarse from constantly yelling, until his feet hit the ground. Now he's kneeling, steadying himself as the world spins and quivers and burns.

Coughing through smoke that stings his eyes, Peter feels for injuries the Drones inflicted on him. Luckily, the cuts aren't deep enough to do any real damage, so he ignores the blood leaking from his arm and leg, more worried about the rips in his beloved red jacket.

Groot is right behind him, lifting him back onto his feet like a marionette, and the two continue to race, following Rocket's silver tail as a guide. Star-Lord runs even though his vision doubles, floating in and out. He runs despite the fact that he has to keep his arms in front of him or else he's afraid to run into a tree. He runs and tells himself: _It's not much farther 'til we reach the ship. It can't be much farther. It can't be…_

Eventually, the smoke dissipates, and the Golden Drones are left behind, apparently unsuccessful at burning down the _entire_ forest, or, perhaps, unwilling to. Either way, Quill is glad to be rid of those a-holes again. He pants from exertion, feeling sweat trickle underneath his shirt. His arm and leg have ceased bleeding, but the wounds are tender to the touch.

"Can… we… stop?" he calls up to Rocket, gasping between each syllable. The raccoon perches directly above him but remains unmoving. "Rocket?"

Peter is about to cry a mountain of obscenities at the small bandit when he halts. There is the sharp odor of burning close by. Quill is convinced that the Drones have started the forest ablaze again until the human's head turns to his left, and his eyes focus on wisps of smoke stemming from Groot's shoulder.

 _Crap._

"Rocket! Groot's been hit! Rocket, get your furry butt _down_ here!"

Rocket leaps from the high branch, but instead of plopping gracefully onto the forest floor, the raccoon collapses in a pile of black and silver fuzz beside him.

"Ah! Jeez!" Quill exclaims, kneeling beside his friend. "That's…just… _great_."

He quickly rolls the little creature over and notices the wound from blaster fire in Rocket's left side. Blood leaks slowly from it, and his eyes are half open.

"Rocket—you okay?"

The raccoon's jaw works, as if he's trying to say something.

"That's it, Rocket. C'mon, buddy. Gimme a sign!"

The raccoon slaps Peter's face _hard_ and points to his backpack that was thrown in his fall.

" _Ow!_ You son of—I can't help it that I can't HEAR ANYTHING!" Peter cries over his shoulder at Rocket as he digs through the backpack, finding a metal flask. When he unscrews the lid and sips its contents, he's relieved to find water.

Ignoring Rocket for the time being, Star-Lord dashes back to the plant-like humanoid when his eyesight shifts again, causing him to trip and land in a heap at Groot's feet. It's a miracle that he doesn't accidentally spill the flask's contents on the forest floor.

The Flora colossus bends over, obviously concerned about Peter, and apparently not yet aware that he has been shot. When the being's mouth opens, Quill knows what's coming.

"I am Groot."

"You're on FIRE!" Quill shouts.

"I am Groot!" The teen does a double-take when it notices the sparks emitting from his shoulder, and his yellow eyes widen with fear.

Peter splashes the water from the canteen on the overgrown shrubbery before it has time to react and watches the steam rise up from Groot's arm, leaving behind a patch of burnt sapling.

Quill stands back unsteadily, dropping the flask and wiping an arm across his sweaty face. His ears continue to throb, which translates to his skull until his entire head is a pulsing mass of a migraine about to get even worse.

But at least Groot is safe. Now that just leaves…

"Rocket!" Star-Lord stumbles back to the fallen raccoon and examines the gash in his side. It doesn't look life-threatening, but it's still bleeding, and they need to get back to the ship fast.

Then the human feels the ground shake beneath him.

"What the…"

Rocket waves one weak paw in the air, the sign for "I've got a bad feeling about this." Star-Lord glances to Groot, who is still examining his injured shoulder, as if dazed. In the distance, he sees the haze of smoke and the bloom of fire setting the remainder of the forest alight.

Peter moans and sits back on his shins. "Not again…"

He makes eye contact with the furry thief and knows that there isn't any more time to stall.

 _We've wasted enough escape time because of me,_ he realizes.

So Quill scoops Rocket into one arm, despite the thief's initial protests, and grabs one of Groot's gnarled hands with the other, pulling with all his might. They zig-zag through trees, and Quill lurches from left to right like a drunken man, dragging both his friends along for the ride. On his heels, the hot flames gleefully chase him, catching up fast. Ahead, tall trees loom like something out of Tolkien. It's a nightmarish scene that becomes even more Brothers Grimm when Quill realizes he's in the company of a personified tree and a talking raccoon.

Quill tries not to freak when Rocket's eyes close.

"Rocket—wake up! If you don't wake up, I'm not gonna be happy! And I might _accidentally_ destroy your collection of prosthetic body parts. Out of grief. It could totally happen… _Rocket!"_

He tries and fails miserably.

At last—the new-and-improved Milano makes its appearance directly in front of them, right where they parked it. It's the most beautiful thing Peter has ever seen.

If only its image would stay still for a minute.

Star-Lord wobbles, only a few feet away from the red spacecraft, but Groot pushes him forward, and he staggers up the gangplank. The guardians are all aboard seconds before the trees behind them disintegrate. Beneath his feet, Peter can feel the Milano lifting up and up and zooming away.

Chaos everywhere. Even stranger: chaos without sound. It's harder for Peter to get his space-legs with no balance to begin with. He staggers forward as soon as the ship has broken through Sovereign's atmosphere and immediately smacks into something bulky, as difficult to budge as a blue whale.

"Drax!" Peter gasps. "Take Rocket—he's hurt!"

He carefully uncurls Rocket from his chest where the little thief had nestled deep into his jacket. Then he extracts the beast's claws and bites his lip to hold back a chuckle at how irrepressibly _cute_ Rocket is when he's unconscious. Quill stores this tidbit of information in his mental file cabinet labeled "Things to Never Bring Up in Front of Rocket Unless You Want Your Unmentionables Chopped Off," and watches Drax dash off with the thief in his arms. Groot hesitates, as if trying to decide who needs more help—the human or the raccoon.

"Go—" says Peter earnestly, and the Flora colossus lumbers after Drax toward the medical bay.

Seconds later, the Milano must have been fired upon because Star-Lord is thrown violently to his left and crashes into the side of the hallway, dinging one of his already-tender ears. He grunts with pain before finding his feet and dashing towards the front of the ship.

It seems to take Peter forever to make it down the corridor as it twists and turns in his field of vision. He helped build this ship and knows it inside out and upside down, but none of that matters when he _feels_ upside down or when his head spins like he's knocked back one too many shots with an instantaneous hangover to boot. Colorful lights from buttons and switches along the ceiling dazzle his sight and swirl together until he feels like he's in a washing machine.

Nauseous, Quill clutches his stomach and bends over, trying not to be sick. His entire body is trembling—whether from shock or dizziness, he's unsure. But the red warning lights compel him onwards. Gamora must be piloting the ship, and he can't leave her to lose the Drones by herself.

Finally, he makes it to the ship's controls. Gamora is in the co-pilot's seat and whips her head back at him when he enters. Her mouth is moving, but he can't make out the words.

"Can't hear!" he shouts, hoping his cry is loud enough for her to pick up. The Milano shakes in response as another round of blasters strike their hull from the Sovereign's fleet.

He's just able to note the flash of concern on the assassin's face when he slides into the pilot's seat and attempts to steady his jittery hands. Before him, space glitters and dances with pretty blue lights and spinning golden orbs, the craziest disco he's ever seen being put on for him, Star-Lord, one night only.

 _Could be my last night,_ he thinks grimly. But when he scans the sensors, he finds a way out.

 _It worked for Han Solo,_ he thinks. _It'll work for me._

"I need some cover!" he yells in Gamora's direction, and he sees her shaking her head frantically.

" _What_?!" he cries. "I flew through an asteroid field _before!_ Okay, that event _might_ have ended with us crash-landing on a planet and destroying our ship, but it _worked!"_

His hands fly by memory across the control panel, and the Milano lurches toward the asteroid field straight ahead. Shards of rock and stardust and other particles hover like glitter in a misty soup. And all is peachy until Quill directs the Milano into the middle of it, and suddenly everything becomes a high stakes arcade game. He toggles expertly right and left, trying to keep his hands from shaking and his head still.

Behind them, the Drones follow his ship into the asteroid field, but with less success. Dozens crash and burn upon entering the field.

The Milano dips and rolls, each movement churning Peter's already sensitive stomach and creating a thicker film of grey over his eyes.

 _We're not gonna make it,_ he thinks.

Almost there.

 _Not gonna make it…_

They clear the field, the last of the Drones destroyed. Quill heaves a sigh of relief and gets up from his seat only to immediately fall down again. His knees are weak and unstable, his sight spinning faster than a whirligig in high winds.

He is barely able to make out Gamora's form, running to him as if in slow motion, her mouth open in surprise. Maybe she's talking too—Peter doesn't know. And then Rocket appears on his other side, with Groot and Drax behind him. The raccoon is propping himself up with what looks like one of the Quill's baseball bats for a crutch, and the sight is so damn funny that Peter wants to laugh but he can't because his ears are ringing and his left leg has started bleeding again and his world is tilting off its hinges. Gamora's hand presses into his shoulder and Rocket reaches out as well, but it's too much and Peter tries to push them away before he throws up on the floor.

The tang of acid scrapes the back of his throat raw. He wipes a sleeve across his mouth and mumbles, "Sorry, guys."

Quill doesn't have a chance to see their reactions, and any embarrassment he might have felt at just spewing his guts dissolves along with his consciousness in a classic film edit: an iris slow wipe.

Peter's last lucid thought is: _Smooth transition._

TBC

 **A/N:** I'm not that satisfied with this chapter, so I apologize, everybody. It ended up being kinda bland to me. But I'm sooo glad that y'all like BAMF/hurting Peter as much as I do! There's nothing quite like it. Next chapter: The team finds out what's wrong with Peter and starts helping him get better. Lots of fluff in the next one-yay! Thanks sooo much to all the reviews and favorites and follows! You all deserve extra snickerdoodles today. Yes, if I had the ability to bake snickerdoodles for everyone and mail them to you tonight, I would.

Special thanks to my **Guest** reviewers! You are all awesome!

 **iDragonSpyro:** Yeah, I held off on introducing more of the Guardians until this chapter, but I can definitely get behind another version of this story where the Milano would swoop in back at the vault and pick everybody up. Haha


	5. You Looked All Right Before

**Surrender**

 **Chapter 5: You Looked All Right Before**

 **Warning:** I should have stated this earlier on, but this fic deals with hearing loss. Also, Peter has a panic attack in this one. I know these might be sensitive issues for some folks, so take care of yourselves, kiddies!

Peter lies on the floor, unmoving. Blood trickles from cuts on his left leg and right forearm, and gore (some fresh and vivid crimson, some dried, darkening, and crusted) covers both his ears. Circles under his eyes, like bruises, contrast against his pale face.

The other Guardians stand around their leader, their expressions an equal mixture of shock and concern.

Except for Drax. Drax is pleasantly disgusted.

"He threw up all over himself!" the Destroyer declares.

If not for Drax, the other Guardians may never have snapped out of their surprised stupor. But they don't thank Drax for it, and he doesn't ask for gratitude anyway.

Directives are given in quick succession.

"Got to get him—"

"—medical bay is already set—"

"I am Groot."

"Peter, can you hear me?!"

Gamora kneels beside Star-Lord and says his name over and over again, with no effect.

Rocket curses profusely and hobbles with Quill's discarded sports equipment out of the control room, like a broken wind-up toy. "The medical bay's all set up. Drax—pick 'im up! Groot, let's go!"

Gamora says, almost in a whisper, almost to herself: "We shouldn't move him. He's Terran. He could die. We shouldn't move him, right?"

She looks to Drax for confirmation. Drax shrugs and looks at Rocket.

Rocket swears again. "He's definitely not gonna get better lying on the floor."

"I am Groot," the Flora colossus says, apparently in agreement with the raccoon.

With a reluctant nod from Gamora, Drax lifts the human gently. He picks him up with care; he picks Peter up like the son he never had. Quill moans softly with the movement, and Drax knows that's a good sign.

"Groot— _c'mon!"_ Rocket growls and shuffles down the corridor.

"I am Groot!" yells the teenager and trudges after his companion.

Gamora's eyes are wide. Drax has a difficult time reading others, but he knows for a fact that the assassin is worried. She hovers beside Star-Lord as Drax carries him down the hall.

"Peter—can you hear me? Peter, wake up!"

Star-Lord's head lolls against Drax's enormous shoulder, his lips parted slightly.

Drax says, "He is breathing," hoping that will soothe her.

"So why won't he wake _up_?" Gamora says, and there's an edge to her voice now.

The Destroyer shrugs again. "Maybe he is tired."

His response silences Gamora for the time being, and Drax is looking forward to some relative calm in the medical bay, but the situation only becomes more chaotic. Before the Destroyer has even set Peter on the bed, Rocket and Groot are rigging the scanners—thin purple devices that attach to the bed and arc around the patient. Two large scanners fan out against each of his sides, and one hovers directly over Peter's head like a halo.

Gamora is alternating between pacing and interrogating Rocket. Drax sees her out of the corner of his eye as one green blur.

"What happened?"

Drax examines Quill and decides on the best course of action to repair the human. He begins by removing Star-Lord's torn and soiled jacket. With one hand behind the Terran's neck to stabilize him, Drax slides the leather jacket smoothly away from him, setting it on a nearby chair. Removing the jacket reveals a grey undershirt stained with blood and sweat.

"There was a… problem at the vault," says Rocket uneasily.

Next, Drax grabs a container of disinfectant and pouch of sterile gauze. He proceeds to clean the cut on Peter's arm, and the man groans softly.

"Why didn't you say that he couldn't _hear?_ What's _wrong_ with him?" the assassin hisses.

The Destroyer rolls up Quill's left pant leg and duplicates the procedure he just completed on his arm, sterilizing the gash and covering it with protective bandages.

Rocket winces as he leans against the large stick that supports his injured leg and heads to the control console to begin the medical analyses. The scanners glow a soft orange, warming up.

"I… I think maybe he got too close to the vault when it exploded. Must've damaged his ears somehow."

"I am Groot," the teen adds.

Gamora's voice becomes higher-pitched with each of Rocket's revelations. "And why did the _vault_ explode? I thought you got the data without any problems?"

"Look—it was an accident," says Rocket, choosing his words carefully, his ears down. Drax knows that the raccoon's ears only do that when he's sad or ashamed of something.

Drax thinks: _Does Rocket blame himself for what happened to the Terran?_

The Destroyer side steps Groot and finds a clean cloth from a cabinet, wetting it with fresh water, and walks back to Star-Lord. This time he focuses on wiping fluids away from the human's ears.

Gamora is inches from Rocket now, ready to berate the raccoon again (or perhaps murder him), when Peter speaks.

"Cold," he murmurs.

Drax hesitates, hands stopping mid-air. He exchanges glances with the others then continues wiping the blood from Peter's ears and neck.

"Tha's col'," Quill slurs, eyes still closed.

Like an unexpected breeze that blows through the room, Rocket and Gamora put their back-and-forth on hold and break into action.

"Initiating scans now," Rocket says hastily. Beside him, Groot is wringing his branch-like hands, yellow eyes fixed on Peter.

Drax finishes cleaning spots of blood off Quill's face and tosses the grubby cloth in a metal hazardous waste bin as Gamora slides beside Quill. She takes his hand, and her tone morphs, instantly gentle.

"Peter, can you hear me?" she says, and Drax notes the tremble in her voice. "Can you open your eyes?"

The Terran remains unconscious, but his fingers wiggle in Gamora's grasp.

She leans forward, encouraging. "That's it. That's it—Peter! Wake up!"

Drax has never heard this particular shade in the assassin's voice before—as if she's talking to someone much younger than Quill—a child, perhaps. In this way, the strongman sees Gamora in a fresh, startling light.

The scanners whirl and hum in the small medical bay. Vitals begin to stream onto the screen in front of Rocket, along with other various statistics. A musical note chimes faintly in the background with each of Peter's heartbeats, slow and steady: _ping…ping…ping…ping._

Gamora joins Rocket, skimming the information as it begins to accumulate before them. Groot looks back and forth between the monitor and the human, dazzled by all the activity. Drax keeps his eyes on Quill, and although his outward expression remains stoic and somewhat bored, he is silently praying.

 _Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay._

"Checking for injury," says Rocket, typing on the console. Instantly, a schematic of the human body pops up on the screen, a checkered grid overlaying its torso.

Red lights alternate with violet lights as the scanners move in a synchronized dance over Peter's still form.

And that's when Star-Lord wakes up.

His eyelids flutter, and he whispers, "Wha….?"

"Quill?" Drax steps forward, studying the human. He must have been the only one who heard Star-Lord speak.

The computer begins to state the Terran's diagnosis; its unearthly voice is unemotional and annoyingly soothing.

" _Subject is a Terran male, thirty-four years of age. Temperature: 101 degrees Fahrenheit—"_

"That's bad, right?" Rocket interjects. "Humies aren't supposed to get above 100 degrees, right?"

The tall being beside him nods. "I am Groot."

Star-Lord's lids flit again before his eyes open, and then widen, his face instantly changing from a neutral to terrified expression. He begins to scream.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"

"Peter?" Panic is back in Gamora's voice. She runs to him, but Drax stops her with firm arms.

"You cannot touch him," the muscled warrior says simply.

Gamora struggles against Drax's force with little success. She hisses, "Why not?!"

Peter writhes like a science experiment on the bed before them, a truly sickening sight. "Guys—help me! What are you doing to me? _Why_ …?" His voice is hoarse, eyes wild.

"Drax's right," says Rocket bitterly. "If you touch him, it'll interfere with the scans, and we won't be able to figure out what's wrong."

Quill's teeth are bared like some feral animal, dark streaks under his eyes that make his green irises almost glow in the bright lights of the scanner. He thrashes, knocking his injured arm and leg against the medical equipment in an attempt to escape.

"He's _hurting_ himself!" Gamora cries. "Rocket, _do_ something!"

The raccoon's jaw locks, and he runs his paws across the panel. Blue restraint bands automatically slide out from the medical bed, wrapping around Star-Lord's limbs and keeping him strapped to the bed. Another smooth band slithers across Quill's forehead, restricting his neck motions. No matter how hard he tries to work against the bands, they make his movements ineffective.

"If you've taken me to a hospital, I swear…" Peter growls, his words choking with anger and distress, becoming so warped that Drax would not be able to recognize his voice unless he was looking straight at the human. "Whoever's responsible better be prepared to say goodbye to a digit!"

Gamora whispers, as if Peter can still hear her. "He has a phobia of hospitals… His mother…" She bites her lip.

Drax steps forward with Gamora. He has had enough of seeing the human frightened—it is most unlike Star-Lord. He views the man's chest heaving up and down, breaths coming in faster and faster.

 _Ping, ping, ping, ping, pingpingpingping_

 _"_ _Subject is hyperventilating…"_ informs the computer.

"No shit," says Rocket, making a rude gesture with his paws toward the medical console.

"Peter," says Drax quietly, looking directly down at the human. "I know your overheated Terran brain does not understand me for some reason, but you must calm down. You will not be harmed. This is not a hospital." Drax spreads his hands out in a universal symbol of good will, and then he smiles. It's a soft smile, but one that's genuine and pure and honest.

A miracle occurs. Quill stops squirming. In fact, he looks at the muscular being as if spellbound.

 _Pingpingping, ping, ping, ping, pingping, ping, ping…_

"Drax…" he mumbles. "Sorry… if I freaked out… I was scared." His voice slurs a bit.

The monitor's V-shaped musical notes slow down, returning to normal.

 _Ping….ping…ping…ping…ping._

Gamora steps beside Drax, making sure she is in Peter's line of sight. She imitates Drax and smiles kindly.

"Gamora…" Peter murmurs as if seeing her for the first time. He sighs heavily, humming, then: "Gamora… I can't hear anything…"

The scans continue, this time bathing his crown in pulsing green light. Gamora breaks away from Drax to examine the medical screen again. She's biting her nails, and Drax has never seen her do that before.

The computerized voice continues its diagnosis. " _Subject has ruptured both eardrums due to minor infection and trauma. An eardrum rupture is a small hole or tear in the eardrum. This may result in a variety of symptoms, including hearing loss, bleeding, dizziness, vomiting, and ringing or buzzing in the ears…"_

"So it's true…" Rocket says, his voice getting drowned out by the computer.

Meanwhile, Quill's eyes remain wide and shiny and fearful. A clear liquid seeps from one of them and slides down one his cheek.

"I am Groot?" says the tree-like being solemnly.

"Exactly," Rocket agrees. "How the hell are we gonna talk with him?"

From the bed, lying rigid, Peter says in a quiet voice that is almost drowned out by the scanners, "Hurts."

Drax is still in front of the human. He says, "You are all right, my friend," even though he doesn't know how useful his words are if Quill can't hear them, or if they form a lie.

Gamora's green fingers fly across the console. Her question flashes bright on the monitor.

IS IT PERMANENT?

Drax doesn't realize he's holding his breath until the computer answers back.

" _If the damage is extensive, or if infection is present, permanent hearing loss may result without surgery. However, most ruptured eardrums heal within three months."_

"Hurts," Peter repeats.

Gamora and Rocket look at each other, then Gamora says, lips pursed tightly together: "Get those restraints off him. Now."

TBC

 **A/N:** Gah! Not a great place to end it, I know, but this chapter was getting a little longer than I wanted. I'm trying to work on pacing, and this chapter proved another difficult one just because of the addition of more characters, and with more going on at the same time.

Again, my medical knowledge is almost non-existent, so I'm probably making a bigger deal of Peter's condition than it really is. Thanks for indulging me!

My reasoning for Drax being the one to step up and care for Peter stems from the fact that he's the only Guardian who has been a parent (that I know of). So I started with him. Each Guardian will have their moment to care for Star-Lord too.

Thanks again for all the reviews and favorites and follows! Cyber jellybeans and _Logan Noir_ for everyone!

~Ista

 **iDragonSpryo:** Thanks for your last review! (I hope you're glad that the transition isn't a "slow spiral into death"-hah!)


	6. If You Ever Change Your Mind

**Surrender**

 **Chapter 6: If You Ever Change Your Mind**

"Hurts," Peter says again.

Gamora doesn't know how to deal with this.

She's the deadliest woman in the whole galaxy, the last of the Zehoberei, and the hero of her own destiny.

Yet she stands as still as a statue as Star-Lord writhes on the medical bed, his pale skin slick with sweat. Gamora can't reconcile the image she has of their leader, usually strong and reckless and full of bravado, with this one: weak, helpless, like a child.

On her order, the restraint bands slide from Peter's abdomen, arms, and forehead.

"When are we gonna…?" Rocket begins, but his voice fades out.

"Tell him?" Gamora finishes, never taking her eyes off Quill.

There is an awkward silence. Even Drax shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another.

The green assassin says, "Right now."

She tells Groot to adjust the monitor that is closest to the ceiling and tilt it down so Peter can see, and Rocket programs the computer to re-state the diagnostic with text and visuals this time.

"Drax, you might need to…"

 _Don't crumble. Not now. Stay strong._

The Destroyer doesn't need further prompting; he knows what she meant, and he goes to Quill, raising his shoulders up gently.

"What're… What're ya doin'?" Peter mumbles at Drax as the muscled man props him up.

The green assassin waves her arms in front of Peter to get his attention, and she points at the monitor over head.

With a nod from Gamora, Rocket starts playing the diagnostic over again. Peter pushes a sweaty strand of hair out of his face and focuses bleary eyes on the words that flash onscreen. Even from across the room, she sees his eyes widen as the video progresses, lips parting as his mouth gapes in disbelief.

When Gamora feels her shoulders sagging, she thinks of her sister and clenches her jaw as if it was made of steel.

 _Nebula wouldn't give up._

She places her hands on her hips and forces herself to look at the screen and not Peter's face.

Then it's over, and Groot switches the monitor off. Tension fills the room like dense fog, separating each of the Guardians to occupy the space within their own minds. Silence reigns. Gamora holds her breath.

"So… _that's_ why I can't hear," Peter says loudly. He tilts his head, and his left hand traces the outside ridge of one ear like an afterthought. Then he grins. "Coulda been worse."

The tension evaporates, and the other Guardians deflate like balloons. Groot takes out a hand-held video game and pretends to play it with a sulky expression on his face. Gamora knows he's actually still listening to the conversation, but at least it _appears_ like he's an authentic teenager. Rocket picks at the bandages covering his side wound, and Drax frowns.

"Rocket… Could you please adjust the controls on Quill's bed so I can remove my arms from his back?"

The raccoon preens his cheek fur without looking at Drax. "Is there a problem, muscles?"

Drax's brow furrows at the tiny beast. "My arms are beginning to cramp, and I would—"

"Don't you lift, like, 7,000 pounds on a regular basis?"

"Rocket, just tilt his bed up!" Gamora blurts out, rolling her eyes, and the raccoon grumbles while pushing the controls.

The head of the cot jerks as it moves upwards, causing Star-Lord to flinch, and Drax slips his arms from behind the human's back, flexing them. When the bed abruptly stops, in a seated position, Quill swings his legs around and starts to stand.

"Oh no no no no no!" Rocket says, hobbling over to Star-Lord's side as fast as he can with a baseball bat for a crutch. "Where do you think _you're_ going?"

Groot puts down his tablet, his yellow eyes fearful, and the look on Drax's face tells Gamora that he's about ready to scoop the human up and physically restrain him again when a chime rings.

Gamora's ears prick up. "We're being hailed. Inter-galactic message. Drax—"

"I'm on my way," says the Destroyer hastily and heads toward the control room. Before leaving the med bay, he whispers into Gamora's ear, "Do not be afraid to help him."

It's all the encouragement the green assassin needs. She instantly rushes to the human as he sways on his feet.

"Peter!" She braces his arm, and Rocket puts stabilizing paws on the human's wobbly legs.

Quill's eyes mash close, and he places a hand on his temple, grimacing. A shudder runs the length of his entire body.

"I am Groot?" the teen pipes in.

"Besides being a stubborn pain in the ass, I'm not sure what _else_ is wrong with him," Rocket mutters.

"Head," Peter manages to get out, and he gasps with pain. "It still hurts."

Gamora's mind filters through any information she has on Terran biology. "He has a fever," she says slowly.

"We already knew that," Rocket says, clearly losing his patience at the situation and not being able to help his friend.

"Infection," says Gamora. "He may have already had an ear infection before the explosion that caused further damage to his hearing. We need to give him antibiotics."

A small whimper escapes Peter's lips, and Rocket growls.

"And for the pain," the raccoon says, turning his snout in Peter's direction although the human isn't looking at him. "I've had enough of your moaning and complaining today." The beast's harsh words disguise the suffering in his voice.

"Tell the computer," Gamora says to Rocket, and the little thief complies while the most dangerous woman in the galaxy gently presses Peter back into bed. "It should already have recommended medicine for him."

The human is getting more delirious. She can tell when Quill takes her by the arm and pulls her close. His breath is rank, his eyes liquid green gems.

"You're beautiful," Peter slurs.

"And you're sick," Gamora says with a soft, worried smile. She carefully extricates her arm from his grasp, looking at Rocket. "What does the computer say?"

Rocket sticks his tongue out. "Ready to go. There's just one thing…"

"What's that?" An edge to the assassin's voice echoes her frustration.

"I am Groot," the leafy being says, as if it's common knowledge.

Rocket sighs. "Peter is afraid of needles."

Quill groans as if he can hear them, turning away from her, curling into a ball.

Gamora purses her lips. "Then I'll just have to distract him."

"How're you gonna—"

"Approve the injection."

Rocket mumbles objections but follows orders. Gamora takes a deep breath and grabs Peter by the shoulders so that he's facing her once more. The human's feverish eyes hold confusion.

"Hi?" he says.

"Hello," she purrs and brings a hand up to cup his sweaty chin. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the mechanical arm from the med bed hum and advance towards Peter's arm, raising a thick, long needle.

When Star-Lord begins to turn away from her, Gamora leans forward and crushes her lips against his mouth. Peter moans weakly, and the silver needle punctures his arm. It's over in a matter of seconds, and Gamora pulls away, leaving the human with his hair mussed and a dazed expression on his face.

Rocket coughs. "Nice _distraction_."

TBC

 **A/N:** Heeyyyyy everybody. Sorry I've been so late in posting this! I got sucked into the TV show "Hannibal," and my inspiration went elsewhere, but I'm back! I'm not sure how frequently I'll be posting, but I'll definitely be finishing this fic. Just like all my others, it might be awhile. Thanks so much for your support and all the awesome reviews and favorites! They make me smile.

~Ista


	7. I've Known Her All These Years

**Surrender**

 **Chapter 7: I've Known Her All These Years**

Groot looks up from his tablet and studies the situation. Rocket and Gamora are still screaming at each other. Big surprise. Meanwhile, Star-Lord has fallen asleep and lies on the medical bed between them.

"I am Groot," the teenager grumbles to himself and tries to concentrate on the game "Space Invaders," but there's too much noise.

"At least _I_ didn't almost get him killed!" Gamora cries.

Rocket's ears go back. "How many times do I have to tell you that it was an _accident?_ I didn't _mean_ for him to get blown up!"

"And I'm supposed to believe this from the creature who collects mechanical _body parts_?!"

The raccoon raises his paws in the air. "It's a _hobby_!"

Groot looks up from his game to chastise the pair, who are _obviously_ not acting like adults in this situation, and notices the sleeping Terran stir and open his eyes. Even though their captain is awake, the raccoon and assassin aren't paying attention to him. Groot smiles craftily and waits for the situation to play itself out.

"Trash panda!" Gamora screams.

"Overreacting—mean—lady!" Rocket shouts back.

"I am Groot," the teenager comments blandly.

Rocket is about to have a full-on tail-shaking tantrum. "I'm not great at insults! I'm _trying_!"

Peter looks back and forth at them, slack-jawed with wonderment before speaking: "Mom and dad—please don't fight…"

"Peter!" Gamora exclaims. She bends over him and places a green hand on his forehead to check his temperature the old fashioned way.

Peter suppresses a grin at her touch. "No one is accusing Rocket of being 'rash sandals.' And Rocket, don't call Gamora a 'slowly reacting green baby.' That's just rude…"

The others stop and stare at each other with complete bewilderment.

Peter blinks sleepily, a lopsided smile on his face. "How 'm I doin' at lip reading?"

"I think his fever has broken."

"NOT FEELIN' SO FEVERISH ANYMORE," says Quill, about five notches too loud for the small room they're in. "THANKS FOR THE MEDICINE!"

Drax enters the med bay with the decorum of an inattentive elephant to find Gamora face-palming and Rocket with his paws stuck in his ears. Groot sighs wistfully and shuts down his game.

"The Terran is alive," Drax states.

"HI, DRAX!" Peter says cheerfully, causing the furry navigator to wince again.

"Hello, Peter Quill," returns Drax, his face emotionless. "I am overjoyed that you have not expired."

"DID YOU SAY YOU'VE _RETIRED_?!"

Rocket yells, "Shut up!" at the same time Gamora places her hand over Peter's mouth. The Terran says something else, but his words are muffled.

Drax looks puzzled. "Why are you trying to suffocate the Terran?"

Gamora rolls her eyes. "I'm not hurting him, Drax. Peter's speaking _way_ too loudly because he can't hear himself."

Drax's expression doesn't change. "What are you _talking_ about? That's the first time I've been able to actually understand him."

The Flora colossus rolls his eyes and decides it's time for him to take on a leadership role while their original fearless leader is trying to talk through Gamora's hand. He turns on the "speech to text" feature of his tablet and hands it over to Star-Lord.

"I am Groot," he says calmly.

Gamora's surprise causes her hand to fly from Peter's mouth to her own. Rocket's mouth also gapes open, along with Drax's. Even Quill seems impressed by the gesture.

"Is this," Quill says in a softer tone, "for _me_?"

Groot bobs his head up and down. "I am Groot." He points at the tablet with a stalky hand as his words are copied on the screen before Peter's eyes.

"Woah," says the Terran, impressed. "Thank you."

A minute smile flickers across the leafy creature's features.

Rocket says behind his paw to Drax, "I've been trying to get him to give up that stupid tablet for _months_."

"I am _Groot!_ " the teenager snaps at Rocket and stomps back to his seat.

"This is awesome!" Star-Lord exclaims. "Drax—say something!"

Drax looks confused, glancing back and forth between Rocket and Gamora, shrugging.

The raccoon rubs his snout. "It doesn't matter what you say, Drax. It's gonna be translated onto his tablet thingy."

"So cool!" Peter approves as he reads Rocket's response in text, rubbing his eyes.

"I know," Drax says. "I was thinking of something profound."

Gamora rubs her temples. "Drax, why don't you tell us what the message was about?"

The destroyer blinks and nods. "Nova Corps thanks us for the stolen data pad and will pick it up at our convenience."

"I think there's an outpost nearby—maybe only eight hours away," Gamora says. "What do you think, Peter?"

But when they all look down at the Terran, he has drifted off again, Groot's gamer still clutched in his hands and on top of his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. Gamora regards her sleeping friend and gently takes the tablet from him. It's not a spoken order, but everyone realizes it's Star-Lord's cue for _all_ of them to get some shut eye. So they do.

* * *

Gamora wakes up to a _crash_.

On instinct, she reaches for the blaster at her hip, then relaxes when she realizes where she is: back in the med bay, propped against a less-than-comfortable chair. She remembers that everyone except for Drax, who was in charge of steering the ship, fell asleep in the med bay after Quill fell asleep. It just seemed easier and logical at the time to be there for him when he woke up again.

There is a crick in her neck, and she pops it with satisfaction, listening to the sound of her crew mates' sleep-noises in the darkness. The assassin realizes she must have _really_ been tired to sleep through Rocket's snores because they are loud enough to burst _anyone's_ eardrums.

Gamora is about to fall back asleep in her cramped position when she hears a different noise—a _whimper_. And then:

"Son of a _bitch!_ "

"Peter?!"

She's on her feet faster than Rocket can set a charge, pressing a button on a nearby console that floods the med bay in dim light.

Star-Lord is on his hands and knees in front of his bed. When he looks up at her, his hair is mussed, and his eyes are rolling slightly. He holds onto the bed to hoist himself up, but his legs are trembling too badly, and he grunts, sinking back down again.

"Here—let me help you," Gamora says, swiftly taking his shoulders. The look of gratitude Peter gives her when he finally notices the assassin causes a flush of heat that radiates between her shoulder blades, like invisible wings expanding outwards.

"What's the rumpus?" comes at a growl at her shins. It's Rocket, rubbing the furry rings around his eyes grumpily.

She knows Quill can't hear them, but he explains anyway, just a hint of a slur in his voice, "Wa s'gonna head back to my room, but my balance is still off. Stupid balance."

"You could always _crawl_ to your room," Rocket says before Gamora smacks him.

Star-Lord, oblivious to Rocket's comments, merely bows his head, his cheek brushing Gamora's neck, shoulders slumped, helpless and defeated.

"C'mon!" the assassin whispers to Rocket.

Whining and complaining under his breath the entire way, the raccoon hastily takes Peter's other arm, and the two of them slowly guide their Terran commander out of the med bay and towards his quarters. Before they leave, Gamora notes Groot sleeping on a chair by the door, one branch-like arm tucked under his head, snoring softly. It's yet another moment that makes the assassin surprised at how all of them have come together to help their injured captain.

Quill weaves down the hallway, stepping on Rocket's paw multiple times. Gamora has to bite her tongue when Rocket curses Peter only to have the Terran bump into the little thief _,_ oblivious to his swear words. Finally, they reach Star-Lord's quarters, and they all slip inside. Both Gamora and Rocket delicately deposit Peter onto his bed, a variety of sheets and pillows piled messily on top.

The Terran steadies his breathing and closes his eyes, as if he just ran a marathon. When he opens them, Gamora abruptly sees flashes of uncertainty and fear.

"Thanks, guys. I…" Quill looks like he's about to say something, but the words dissolve into a mumble.

Rocket says a few impolite phrases under his breath and waves goodbye. Gamora is about to follow suit when—

"Wait."

The raccoon and assassin turn around simultaneously. Gamora knows what's coming, and she almost runs to put her hand over Peter's mouth—to stop him from speaking until the morning—but it's too late.

"Until _this_ is over, Gamora's in command," Quill says steadily, no hint of slur in his tone. "And if I _don't_ get back to normal—"

"Don't say that—"

"—then indefinitely," Star-Lord finishes without noticing that Gamora spoke. "Rocket, you're lead pilot. You were always better than me anyway."

"Well, I dunno about _that_ ," says Rocket and shoots an over-the-top wink at Gamora.

Peter remains un-phased. "I _clearly_ saw you wink."

Rocket's eyes widen, then he shrugs. "Get better, you idiot," he mutters sincerely before leaving Quill's quarters.

Gamora follows Rocket, heart hammering in her chest, but Star-Lord's voice stops her.

"Stay with me?"

The assassin turns around so quickly, she feels dizzy with the movement.

"Of course," she says and kneels at his side. "Just go to sleep."

Peter settles back among the nest of scattered sheets and pillows. When he closes his eyes, Gamora breathes a sigh of relief, but then they flash open again, wide and searching in the dim light of his quarters.

"Gamora, 'm afraid," he whispers.

Gamora's initial reaction is to freeze. She isn't entirely sure how to comfort him. What does their relationship amount to, anyway? A few dances and regular verbal sparring? When Gamora used to think of her future, it rarely included anyone from her current crew.

And yet, in the half-light, looking down at the Terran she respects as a leader, and the man she considers a friend, Gamora realizes that none of that matters. She takes Peter's hand.

"Just go to sleep," she says calmly, soothingly.

Peter hums a bit, eyes fluttering closed, then opening. "Am I delirious, or did you _kiss_ me a little earlier?"

"You're delirous," she says, deadpan.

Gamora tries not to think about the way Peter's subsequent smile causes her face to flush. In a few minutes, Quill closes his eyes and sleeps. Gamora keeps holding his hand until the artificial night is over.

 **TBC**

 **A/N:** It's a Christmas miracle! I actually found some time to write! Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing.


End file.
